It’s no secret that fame can be toxic. But Opus wants to explore just how deeply that poison can rot someone’s soul.
In Opus, Ariel Ecton (Ayo Edebiri) is a young writer who is trying to make her mark on the industry. When her editor is invited to the remote compound of Moretti (John Malkovich), a legendary pop star working towards a comeback, Ariel is stunned to discover that she too has been asked to participate. As a member of a select group of invitees, Ariel and the other writers and influencers in attendance find themselves immersed in a Moretti’s bizarre cult-like atmosphere and become unwitting participants in a plan designed to change the cultural status quo.
Written and directed by Mark Anthony Green, Opus is a film that’s fueled by a fascinating conversation yet struggles to remain focused. Performances in the film are fine, even in moments when the script feels uneven. Edebiri does a good job serving as Opus‘ emotional core. Juliette Lewis makes the most of her brief minutes with her trademark quirks. (Though, admittedly, up-and-coming star Amber Midthunder feels misused.) And, of course, Malkovich positively eats up the screen with his own brand of bizarre antics. He is a man unhinged and Malkovich embraces the opportunity to step into the weird. For example, the positively insane scene where he dances through a track from his new album is awkwardly entrancing.
Yet this is the sort of environment that Moretti’s compound is supposed to be. By setting the film in the midst of the desert, Green builds a tension between the decadent and destitute. Every scene here simply feels dry. Moretti’s compound is meant to be a lush haven from the outside world. To him, it is Eden… yet one with cracks that gradually begin to appear.
In a world—and, strangely, a story—reminiscent of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, Moretti’s cult-like space is meant to an area that leans into the bizarre. (The reclusive Moretti even has a group of mysterious staff operating the compound and carrying out his every whim.) Nothing is supposed to feel quite right, even as spaces seem welcoming on the surface. To the world, Moretti is a musical demi-god. But celebrity culture is never quite reality.
And Opus wants to pull back the curtain of fame to reveal the nastiness inside.
Without giving any spoilers, Opus is meant to spark a conversation about what it means to keep the façade going. This is a story that acknowledges the toxicity of fame and the ways in which one can seek to keep the spotlight. There is a certain temptation to the world of celebrity that beckons anyone who stands on its precipice. As such, Opus wants to ask what it means for someone to fall. In moments, this is a sharp and incisive satire that has the potential to delve deeply into the modern complexities of fame.
Even so, Opus struggles to keep itself on the rails (even when it’s intentionally off the rails). However, though the film has a strong opening and surprising finale, the journey between both acts rarely works. Character arcs feel disjointed and often moments make little sense. Though the film’s world is meant to be unusual, there are enough gaps between characters and their actions that it can be hard to lean in.
These moments are genuinely unfortunate because there’s much to like about Opus. This is a film with some enjoyable performances and a surprisingly engaging premise. Nevertheless, an uneven script keeps Moretti’s (and Green’s) Opus from becoming the symphony of madness that it could be.
Opus is available in theatres on now.
